


Molt

by PetrichorPerfume



Series: Shenanigans [37]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adam is so whipped, Ain't nobody gonna mess with a shedding Satan, Big bad archangel just wants to be fed powdered sugar, Crying Michael, Gabriel's feathers are too cool for this 'physics' crap, Lucifer is a cranky-puss, Lucifer is a dick, Lucifer is in the mood for a virgin, M/M, Michael is a cutie pie, Multi, No even Dean's Jesus is safe, Officer Good is just so done, Pouty Michael, Sam is such a good boyfriend, Satan sheds, Shedding, So is Gabriel, So many feathers, feathers - Freeform, molting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2074170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorPerfume/pseuds/PetrichorPerfume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam sighs. “You’re gonna make me go back to the store for more powdered sugar, aren’t you?” </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>“You do realize I’ve bought every last ounce of powdered sugar in a ten mile radius, right?” </p><p>“I don’t care.” </p><p>“And you’re also aware that the last store I went to called Officer Good to accuse me of plotting some weird Satanic ritual involving replacing a virgin’s organs with powdered sugar, right?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Molt

It’s the Mistletoe Apocalypse all over again, except this time there’s no mistletoe and no magic – just feathers. Endless, infinite, boundless seas of feathers piled up on the floor and stuck to the walls and hung from the ceiling like macabre chandeliers.

 

“How is it possible that four angels can produce so many feathers?” Adam groans as he fishes a pile of feathers out of his pants. (They’re everywhere, literally everywhere, and nowhere and no one is safe from their all-reaching grasp. He and his brothers have been coughing up and pooping out feathers for days and on one memorable occasion, Dean had needed Michael to remove a feather from somewhere no feather has _any_ right to be.)

 

“Well, since three of us have sixty-four wings each, it’s not exactly rocket science,” Lucifer growls. He and Gabriel are the crankiest when they’re shedding (molting, Michael corrects him every time) and Adam truly isn’t sure how Sam deals with having two highly irritable archangel lovers in his bed at the same time. Seriously, is he drunk or high? Or is the sex just _that_ good? Adam can barely stand to be around Michael when he’s like this, and all the older archangel does is sit around and sulk and look at Adam with plaintive eyes and beg to be hand-fed powdered sugar.

 

Either Sam sees some warning sign that Lucifer’s about to blow up like a volcano no one else sees, or he’s just a really good mate, because suddenly he’s on the floor between Lucifer’s knees smiling up at the moody archangel and offering to give him a foot rub.

 

Lucifer gives everyone else a haughty smirk and accepts like it’s his birth-right (and maybe it is, what does Adam know?) before sticking out a long forked tongue at Gabriel as if to say, “Hah, I get a foot rub from the human and you don’t because I’m clearly superior!” He proceeds to say just that, and Gabriel growls low in his throat before turning to Adam.

 

Adam sends a frantic look to Michael, but the eldest angel is too busy weeping into an empty bag of sugar to notice.

 

“Human Number Three,” Gabriel says, and boy does Adam really fucking hate when Gabriel calls him that, “foot rub.”

 

“My name is Adam,” Adam says, quite reasonably but also quite dangerously. He doesn’t move, and immediately regrets it when Gabriel disappears and leaves a ten-foot mound of feathers in his place. Some of the feathers decide they’re too cool to obey the laws of physics and start to float towards the ceiling to form yet another useless chandelier.

 

“Adam, there’s no more sugar,” Michael sobs.

 

Adam rolls his eyes and reminds himself that he needs to be gentle with his overly emotional angel as he counts to ten. “Michael,” he says gently. “You’re an all-knowing, all-powerful archangel. You can create all the sugar you can possibly want or need.”

 

Michael answers with a long, drawn out, watery sniff before bursting into tears. “But I like it better when you get me sugar!” He wails.

 

Adam sighs. “You’re gonna make me go back to the store for more powdered sugar, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You do realize I’ve bought every last ounce of powdered sugar in a ten mile radius, right?”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

“And you’re also aware that the last store I went to called Officer Good to accuse me of plotting some weird Satanic ritual involving replacing a virgin’s organs with powdered sugar, right?”

 

“Still don’t care.”

 

“I could go for a virgin right now,” Lucifer says thoughtfully. He snaps and restores the virginity of the humans in the room. He pulls Sam onto his lap and starts undressing him.

 

“Sugar, now,” Michael demands.

 

Adam rises wearily. “Fine, I’m going.”

 

Dean pops up, causing Castiel to release a cloud of surprised feathers. “I’m coming too,” he all but shouts.

 

“I’ll accompany you,” Castiel announces.

 

Dean spins around suddenly. “No! I mean, hey, you’re all comfy here, why leave?” He chuckles nervously.

 

Castiel shrugs, unleashing a brand new shower of feathers. “I am coming.”

 

Adam and Dean share a pained look. “Cas,” Adam starts.

 

“I will meet you in the car,” Castiel informs them, disappearing in a burst of feathers.

 

Dean cringes. “We’ll be back soon,” he whimpers.

 

***

 

Ten minutes later:

 

“9-11. What’s your emergency?” Angry screaming. “What do you mean there’s a ‘feather storm’ on the highway?” More screaming. “Uh-huh. Can you get a good look at the car causing the storm?” Even louder screaming. “A ’67 Impala. Great.” Eardrum shattering screaming. “No, I’m not going to arrest them. Why not? Those hooligans have the devil on their side, and I hear that Satan’s shedding this time of year.”


End file.
